Puddles…

When we were kids there wasn’t much more satisfying, at least for me, than watching a good, Kansas storm move through Salina from west to east with rapidity. I mean it would blow in and out in mere minutes. I can remember, like it was yesterday, the joy of putting on my rubber boots and heading out to the curb on 11th street to jump up and down in the big puddles that had formed at the bottom of our driveway, just after the thunder and lightening show came and went. What fun it was to jump up and down and get all wet in the process.

As adults, it seems, many of us have lost sight of these simple perspectives.

When storms suddenly wreck havoc in our adult lives, we tend to sit and stew instead of anticipate the fun that it’s about to become. We act as if blue skies and sunny days are the only ones worth making the most of, and hunker down and gut it out on all the others. When we step in a puddle we get pissed and jump quickly as if our misstep must have been a mistake. What if it’s our perspective, not the puddle, that’s the problem? What if the storms and puddles haven’t really changed, but we have? What if life is meant to teach us to play with what we’ve got, where we’ve got it, and with whom we’ve been given?

Slow down and think about your puddles. Puddles don’t overwhelm us. Nobody is dying when we step in one. Puddles are simply part of life. We all step in ‘em. You and I choose our perspective. We either jump up and down and make the most of our misstep, or curse the puddle, puddle maker, and treat it like a torrential downpour allowing it to sweep us away, take us off course, and away from our dream. Now that would be childish, huh. What problem do you need to reframe as a mere puddle, friend? Puddles. Perspective. Good.

Live hard. Love harder (Thanks, Teeks)…

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